


All Along the Watchtower

by Enigel



Category: Highlander
Genre: Gen, between character study and navel-gazing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-06-14
Updated: 2004-06-14
Packaged: 2017-10-02 02:40:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enigel/pseuds/Enigel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Methos leaves his mark on places.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Along the Watchtower

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Multi-Fandom Hometown Challenge](http://www.livejournal.com/users/rhipowered/321181.html); town: Sighisoara, Romania - not my actual hometown, but I love it and feel very at home there. Thanks to Daegaer for the beta!

Methos climbed in the small tower - the locals were so proud of it, the highest tower their city had ever dreamed of building - and gazed upon the quiet valley.

It was a small city. He, who had once looked upon the majestic unraveling of sumptuous buildings that was Babylon, he who had stood at the very top of a ziggurat, he felt like he was in a child's play. Toy houses, a toy church, and he, just a man watching over the city from a toy tower.

Unseen by the other archer, he hunched in a corner and scribbled an initial in a hidden corner. He hesitated at the apparent childishness of the gesture, as he always did, but in the end a discreet, stylish letter in a long forgotten alphabet - one or two scholars in this garden-sized country might have knowledge of it still - adorned the bare stone.

They were his small tokens of vanity. He scribbled similar signs in various cities of the world; in two or three lifetimes or several centuries he'd come back to look for them.

Sometimes he found them, nodded, and maybe reinforced the fading mark.

Most of the times the buildings had long since burned, and more often than not the cities themselves were not more than ruins eaten by plants and moss.

He was not disappointed; he couldn't be.

Methos stood again and resumed his watch. After his life here was passed he'd leave and would return in a hundred years or two; he could expect to find a thriving city, or a collapsing ruin; he didn't care either way; either way, he'd get the confirmation of the victory of flesh over stone - the victory of a will set on surviving.


End file.
